He’d failed too.
Nero stared at me.
No. I snarled at Nero, snapping my teeth again. My purpose was blood. That was one thing I never failed at. Spilling oceans of blood.
More time passed in a daze.
I woke to find Nero staring at me with a hopeful look. “Lucian? Are…you back?”
“Y-yes,” I croaked. I stared down at my hands, startled to see that I was a man, not a wolf. “I think so,” I lied, keeping my inner madness locked down deep. Nero let out a sigh of relief. “You can unchain me, now, brother. I…think I’ve found a purpose,” I whispered, telling the truth this time.
Only one word had stayed with me throughout my madness.
Protection.
If I couldn’t protect a person, maybe I could find a way to protect a brave New World. To form an empire of werewolves to watch the shores.
To make sure something like this never happened again.
20
Shimmer.
It had been years since I had last seen Nero. He’d gone back to Europe to hunt down Dracula.
I’d established twelve strong packs of werewolves, stretching all down the coast. More settlers were arriving by the day, all looking for new opportunities and new lives.
I gave them more opportunities than they ever wished for.
To stand guard. To become something greater than a man. To walk the world as a werewolf.
I had never fully banished my inner madness—my guilt. I’d just learned to hide it from Nero long enough for him to release me from the damned chains he’d made for me. I’d managed to keep it under wraps, devoting all my attention to building an empire of werewolves. To never let another vampire set foot on our shores.
But now it was self-sustaining.
My life’s work was finished, and I no longer felt the pressing need to keep it up.
I was tired. So damned tired.
I had come up here to the mountains of New York to spend the rest of my days in solitude. I stared out at the valley far below. I’d found this cliff jutting out from the face of a much larger mountain. The best part about it was the solitude. No one in their right mind would come out here. The cliff, reminding me of a broken bridge, offered a great view of the moon and stars as well as miles and miles of forest in every direction. I leaned back against one of the boulders, closing my eyes and letting out a sigh. I had taken off my clothes, ready to shift for the last time.
Because now that my life’s work—my purpose—was complete, I didn’t quite know what to do with myself. And in that lack of purpose, my madness waited for me like an old friend.
The need to hunt. To abandon the world of man for good.
Anything to escape the damning eyes of a young boy—the son of my dead brother, Sorin. The boy I had failed to save. My thoughts always came back to that moment if I didn’t keep myself busy. Like now. I opened my eyes.
And I froze in disbelief as an old woman was suddenly standing a dozen paces away near the edge of the cliff. She was humming to herself, carrying a basket as she bent down to dig at the earth with her hands. I climbed to my feet, suddenly embarrassed of my nudity. What would she think, seeing a man on a cliff, stark-naked and obviously alone? I frowned suspiciously. How had I not sensed her? She must have walked right past me to get to the edge of the cliff. Had I dozed off?
And what was she doing? She looked to be digging for something. I hurriedly tugged on my pants before she noticed that I had woken up from my nap. As I dressed, I watched her reach into her basket and grab something with exceeding caution. She set it down into the hole she had been digging. I frowned. Planting flowers? Here of all places?
I approached, careful not to startle her. “Hello, good mother!” I said from a polite distance. “Do you need help?”
She waved a hand flippantly. “Shove off!” she snapped, not sounding old at all.
I froze in my tracks, my smile faltering. “Oh. I…” I scratched at my head, puzzled. “You—”
“Are you having a vowel movement?” she snapped, shooting a glare over her shoulder.
I stepped back under the intensity of her glare. Vowel movement? Had I heard her correctly? I cleared my throat. “If you need any assistance, I’ll be over—”
“If I needed assistance, I wouldn’t be standing on this godforsaken rock in the middle of nowhere. And I certainly wouldn’t approach the naked lunatic sitting on said mountain. You are quite hopeless.”
I pursed my lips in chastisement. She wasn’t wrong. Her words rankled me for other reasons, though. Hopeless…she was righter than she knew. Crazy old woman.
I tried one last time. “What are you doing, anyway?”
“I’m planting mushrooms, of course.”
I frowned. One didn’t plant mushrooms. I was fairly certain of it. “Why?”
“For my sweet Persephone, of course. It’s difficult for me to focus with a dog nipping at my heels. Shove. Off.”
I nodded, turning away. I took two steps before I paused, glancing back over my shoulder with a frown. “Dog?”
She stood, brushing her hands together as she turned to face me. She was standing alarmingly close to the edge of the cliff. One slip and she would fall. “Werewolf. Whatever. I do love dogs, but they can be quite the bother at times.”
For the first time, I truly assessed the strangely perceptive old woman. She…had power. Nothing alarming, but she was more than the typical human. “What are you?”
She arched a stern eyebrow, making me wilt guiltily, not having thought about how crass my question sounded. “I’m a guide. Naturally,” she said, holding out her arms to either side to indicate the two mushrooms she had planted on her left and right. My breath caught as I studied the mushrooms at the very edge of the cliff. Even from a dozen feet away, they seemed to be glowing with magical light.
One was red and black, and my scalp suddenly tingled with alarm to see that the cliff no longer ended behind it. Instead, a stone path spiraled down out of sight and into a thick, stygian darkness.
The other mushroom was blue and gold, and a staircase of crude stone and stained-glass spiraled upwards from the edge of the cliff, into a cloud of sparkling mist.
I stared, wild-eyed. “What is this sorcery?” I demanded, no longer caring about my manners. “What are you?”
“I offer gifts to the truly damned: lost souls, ambitious warlocks, broken hearts, hopeless heroes…” she trailed off, waving her hand. “Poor bastards, essentially.”
I stared, stunned. “What?”
“Aren’t you the nosy one?” then she laughed. “Get it?” I did, and I didn’t find it humorous. She sighed. “I originally had three gifts to offer, but now I only have one left before I’m permitted to see her again. Since you look good naked but are obviously depressed, how about you take the last one? Put some magic in that tragic,” she chuckled, gesturing at my entirety.
“Three…wishes?” I asked. I didn’t comment on the person she wanted to visit. This Persephone. A daughter or grandchild, perhaps.
She nodded. “Three is a magical number, even to the likes of me. And you could call them wishes, but that all depends on what you choose, I guess. Semantics.”
She’d made this offer to two others. I was the last wish left. Something she had said tugged at my mind. “You talk like my friend, Nero. Are you a warlock?”
She shot me a very dry look. “No cock, no warlock.”
I blushed so hard that my ears threatened to catch flame. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“I know what you meant, hopeless hero.”
I grew still. Hopeless hero. That had been one of her original comments about who she gave gifts to. She had also mentioned ambitious warlock. I cocked my head, studying her. Coincidence? Right after I talk about Nero, the ambitious warlock, she mentioned hopeless hero.
“Do you know Nero? He’s quite ambitious,” I said, watching her for a reaction.
The old woman just grinned, obviously unwilling to verbally answer. But that smil
e…
“What are you offering?” I asked, slowly approaching to get a closer look at the mushrooms.
“A choice. The blue and gold will grant you peace, but it will cost you your memory. The red and black will grant you power, but you will have to master or submit to that power.”
“Power?” I asked, scratching at my beard. “Why would I want power? I came to this mountain to forget my past.”
She pointed at the blue and gold. “If you are certain, then it sounds like you have made your choice already.”
I didn’t move, still staring at the mushrooms back and forth. “Power,” I repeated. “What kind of power? I’m already a werewolf.”
She smirked. “Said the ferocious little puppy that everyone thinks is so cute and cuddly.”
I narrowed my eyes, ignoring her husky laughter.
She shrugged. “Power to change what harmed you, if you can control it. Oblivion if you cannot.”
I looked up sharply. “Oblivion,” I mused. That sounded much better than merely forgetting everything and carrying on with my life as if nothing had ever happened. As much as I wanted to forget my pains, they were also closely tied to the only good moments of my life. I wanted to forget the nightmares, not lose the dreams. But oblivion…
I took a step closer to the black and red mushroom, crouching before it. “Which one did my friend pick?” I asked softly, thinking of Nero.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said in mock denial. “People usually pick one of them,” she said dryly. I muttered under my breath at her evasive answers. She pointed at the black and red mushroom before me. “Hope-full.” Then she pointed at the blue and gold mushroom. “Hope-less.” She frowned, scratching at her chin. “I think.”
I decided to stop asking her questions. I calmly plucked up one of the mushrooms and stood, staring at the older woman. I ignored the throbbing pulse of the mushroom in my fingers. It felt like I was holding a beating heart, and it was even oozing a sap-like substance over my knuckles. The woman watched my choice with a curious smile. Her smile began to fade after about ten seconds. “Well, eat it and walk, you idiot,” she snapped impatiently, pointing out over the cliff at my chosen path. “Magic still requires a modicum of effort, you lazy sack of bones. Standing around like a moron holding a magic mushroom,” she muttered, her voice growing fainter by the moment.
Then she was simply gone. There was no sound or visual puff of smoke. She simply wasn’t there anymore, and I couldn’t even recall what she smelled like.
I spun in a slow circle, sniffing at the air. I could sense nothing. I shivered involuntarily, staring back at the boulders where my shirt was neatly folded—where I had intended to turn into a wolf for the last time.
There was no harm in a little adventure. I could always come back here later.
I moved towards the appropriate path and tossed the mushroom into my mouth. It tasted like pure sugar, melting onto my tongue within an instant, startling me.
Between one step and the next, I found myself standing in a darkened cavern, the sound of dripping water echoing in the distance. A waterfall of lava suddenly spilled from the rock wall ahead, illuminating a colossal beast with three snarling heads. It was easily as tall as a building.
I glared at the beast, fully expecting to die. Massive gates rose behind the three-headed dog, tarnished and stained. What had I done? And was Nero here?
Or had he made a better choice?
The dog barked—each head hitting a different octave, and my soul was ripped from my body as I exploded into a wolf form unlike anything I’d ever seen.
Still only a pup in comparison to the beast before me.
Cerberus. The guardian of the Underworld.
21
I found myself back in my own body.
I stumbled back from the giant wolf, staring at him wild-eyed and gasping for air. The wolf stared back, looking equally stunned. No. Lucian looked back.
Because it was definitely him. No one else would have had those memories.
But…how had I seen his memories? Had I forced the experience upon him, or had he shown them to me? Was he trying to communicate? With each following breath, the full magnitude of his memories pounded into me, seeming to batter me into the ground without mercy. I stared, unable to blink or move. When I’d looked into his eyes, I’d seen a castle full of broken mirrors. Had those memories been the broken pieces of Lucian left on the floor of his once great castle?
Was Lucian calling out for help? Trying to tell us that he was still inside and didn’t know how to get out? In a brief moment of clarity, Lucian stared back at me through those massive wolf’s eyes. And he was begging my forgiveness with a single word.
Boy.
My eyes suddenly misted over, but I was unable to make myself speak.
He wanted forgiveness for failing me. For failing my wife. For failing my son.
Then, ultimately, for failing himself and taking the coward’s way out—running from his problems. The wolf narrowed his eyes, suddenly furious at something. I cocked my head with a pensive frown. Had…he read my mind, too? I couldn’t read his now, so that seemed unlikely.
Unless…Lucian hadn’t taken the coward’s way out. I hadn’t been able to see which color mushroom he’d chosen—that specific memory being blocked off from me—but I’d seen where it had taken him. To be honest, I wasn’t entirely sure I understood what each mushroom had signified. The old woman had been slightly insane.
But I had seen Cerberus. I had seen the guardian of the Underworld. Which meant this bridge really was another entrance to the realm of Hades.
I studied Lucian, wondering how he was still alive after so many years. Same with Nero. I’d given up my soul to become immortal—or so I had been led to believe. Unless Hades and the twins had been lying about that—which seemed more realistic. A way to hide the fact that I was a demigod, complete with electric claws, now.
I glanced over my shoulder at Stevie. “How long do werewolves typically live? On average.”
He stroked his beard in thought, looking caught off guard by my random question. “I’ve heard as many as three hundred years, but I’d say two hundred is a fair average.”
I nodded, turning to Nero. “What about warlocks? I bet it’s less than five hundred years.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I already explained that, Sorin. I’m still alive because of dark magic and a light diet.”
I didn’t comment on his snarky answer. I just stared back at him, my face utterly blank as I watched his eyes, wondering why he wasn’t mentioning the mushrooms.
He opened his mouth to speak.
“Nah,” I interrupted him. “You sold your souls.” His face grew instantly stony, shutting down as he clamped his mouth shut. “Yeah. Thought so.” I turned to Stevie. “If you could make one wish, what would it be?”
“A rich woman. A twofer,” Stevie said without a moment’s hesitation, but it sounded mechanical, because he was staring at Nero with a wary look, obviously picking up on the tension.
I chuckled. “A clever man knows what he wants—and how to trick the system,” I said, nodding. I turned to Nero, scratching my chin thoughtfully. He stood entirely motionless, his eyes darting about as if searching for an exit. “I bet you would pick immortality. Or necromancy.”
Nero didn’t even move.
I glanced back at Lucian to see that he had his ears tucked back, averting his gaze. I grunted, having no way for him to confirm or deny since he couldn’t talk. I turned back to Nero.
“They never tell you about the price, though, do they?” I said, folding my arms.
He licked his lips. “I would imagine that in such a hypothetical scenario, they would not discuss the price. And they would likely forbid any discussion of the topic with others.”
Oh, he was being very careful.
I nodded. “That is fair.”
Lucian let out a huff and I watched Nero visibly relax.
Stevie stared at the
three of us with a bewildered expression. “Is anyone going to explain what just happened?” he demanded.
Nero nodded curiously, studying me. “One minute you were wrestling like the old days, and the next you were both frozen still. Then you suddenly step back, panting as if you’d just finished running a five-mile race. Did you accidentally Taser each other with your magic hands?”
“What do you mean? How long was I out?” I asked, suddenly recalling my timetable.
Stevie and Nero shared significant looks with each other. Nero’s calculating gaze briefly flicked past my shoulders at Lucian before settling back on me.
Stevie answered. “You only just touched him when you both froze as if you had been turned to stone. Then you jumped back a few seconds later.” He cocked his head curiously, looking at the grass rather than at me. “Did you touch that crown?” he asked.
I glanced back at Lucian, shaking my head. I froze, momentarily startled to find that it was no longer on his head. “I don’t think so.” I licked my lips anxiously.
Lucian’s silver crown now lay in the grass near my feet. I hadn’t noticed it falling. From Lucian’s sudden whine, he hadn’t felt it either. It hadn’t looked like it could fall off—more like it had been attached to his flesh. And it was now cracked in half, the two pieces lying side-by-side. I crouched down and hesitantly extended my hand towards one of the pieces.
My every muscle was ready to recoil at the anticipated pain as my finger touched the silver.
Except…
All I felt was cold metal. It rapidly grew warmer with each passing second, and I knew it would quickly begin to burn me if I maintained contact for too long, so I jerked my hand back. It should have burned me instantly. Or at least faster.
I’d recently been able to touch silver for longer periods, but nothing like this.
Artemis had initially cursed me for stealing her silver bow, preventing me from touching silver without suffering significant burns. But…not anymore. Did it have something to do with the lightning around my claws earlier?
Devil’s Blood: Shade of Devil Book 3 Page 14